


Blue Raven

by MxnicStxr, SPiersNivans



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Asexual Daud (Dishonored), F/M, I'm Sorry, It's a dark story, Low Chaos (Dishonored), M/M, Miscarriage, Multi, Other, Trans corvo, Transphobia, nonverbal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2020-05-16 18:07:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19323361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MxnicStxr/pseuds/MxnicStxr, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SPiersNivans/pseuds/SPiersNivans
Summary: Corvo's execution was faked and instead, he was branded and tossed to the Golden Cat, as per the orders of the High Overseer.Six months later, an unlikely face came to pay him a visit, and help him start what would be the beginning of a long and bloody journey for revenge.





	1. This Raven Won't Sing No More

**Author's Note:**

> MxnicStxr helped me write large chunks of some chapters. For this chapter, they're credited for writing Campell post-Interrogation room.
> 
> There will be indicators for those who are interested in the story but not in reading rape. I'll make before and after the problematic scene:
> 
> \--------------------
> 
> *Problematic scene*
> 
> \--------------------

"Corvo... it's all... coming apart. Find... Find Emily. Protect her. You're the only one. You'll know what to do. Won't you? Corvo?"

 

_ No… _

 

Corvo’s eyes hollowed out as he felt the weight added to his arms, of the sensation that is the Empress’ death. He watched in emptiness as her last breath escaped her lips and silently gasped, his own are parted with no sound daring to release from his throat.

 

With a heavy heart, he placed her down on the cold stone painted crimson with blood, glancing upon the boots surrounding him and pushed himself up on his feet. Those were the guards, along the Royal Spymaster and the High Overseer who seemingly just now came to hear what the gunfire and screaming were all about.

 

“Lord us all, look at what he’s done!” Raved the Royal Spymaster.

 

“Indeed, he’s killed the Empress.” The High Overseer joined.

 

“What have you done to Emily, _traitor_?”

 

Corvo’s eyes followed, but his mind wouldn’t. He couldn’t break his silence and defend himself, and quickly he found himself detaching from reality. Truly, he hasn’t really tried to listen to what accusations or questions came at him next as nothing around him felt real anymore. Not like anything he would say could change their minds; he was alone with the dead Empress, Emily was gone, and his sword was dripping the same liquids gushing out of his beloved-one’s wound.

 

When he was to lift his head again, he was hit against his temple, then apprehended by the two guards. Head slumped, defeated, Corvo haven’t even had the will to defend himself.

 

The only person that understood him and his pain was gone, and the daughter he carried himself was torn away from him in a merciless act of cruelty.

 

_Nothing_ would be capable of changing what has been done.

 

 

 

 

 

“Ah, it appears he is regaining his consciousness.”

Corvo blinked several times before narrowing his eyes, trying to focus on any of the figures before him what with the severe beating he’s received left him with a sore, aching body. He squirmed slightly in his place, finger twitching, and hand attempted at reaching his head when he remembered he was bound to the chair in the interrogation room, still.

He couldn’t remember just how long he’s been here already. It felt like it’s been hours; probably explaining just why the two interrogators were getting increasingly impatient and violent with him.

“Well, Corvo?”

There was nothing that Corvo could say in his defense. What he’s seen was out of the ordinary, and there was not much of a chance for the closed-minded Spymaster to believe him. However, he’s seen the High Overseer, clad in red by his side. If anyone would take his word for black magic and supernatural experiences… It _had_ to be him.

“Assassins…” He tried to mutter. His voice is but a whisper yet it echoed within the room’s walls, still somehow overpowered by the fire crackling just by their feet. Even if just slightly. It appeared the High Overseer wasn’t too impressed with what he had to offer, folding his arms tightly on his chest. Corvo tried again, parting his lips, but just the memories were enough to silence him, the pain in his chest overcoming him once more. The disbelief of losing the Empress at that crucial moment.

He found himself trembling in his seat when the flashbacks struck his mind, without the ability to speak any longer. He parted his lips to continue, but each time he’s tried to say but a word there was silence. While he was quiet in front of the interrogators however, a storm was taking place within his heart, his thoughts, his feelings. He knew it was upon him to speak and prove himself, that he had to break the silence; but his body worked against him. All he could do is to ball his hands to fists and pant heavily.

“We’re getting nowhere like this.” The Royal Spymaster shook his head, gesturing with his hand to the “Royal Interrogator” Morris Sullivan - a man that was no more than a _sick sadist_ the late Empress Jessamine felt pity for. He was a mute from birth and had a taste for blood; no other place would take him.

And now his hands were on Corvo’s person, his clumsy fingers unbuttoning his vest. He gasped and widened his eyes, as well as bared his teeth. Corvo could take the torture and beatings, but the thought of having his body bare to the eyes of Burrows, and especially Campbell, hit him with a sharp sense of dread.

He found himself resisting in Sullivan’s arms, almost raving in his grip and snarling, but still, not a single word could make it past his lips. It was all for naught, in the end. All his fighting’s done was to prolong the process and prolong the inevitable, as layer by layer, the large hands were to take him down to his white buttoned shirt; which too was torn open next in one violent motion that quickly got a reaction.

“What is this?!” Campbell almost shouted.

Corvo snarled once again, grinding his teeth at the eyes observing his chest, flattened and pressed with bandages. There was no doubt of what they’ve discovered. He huffed and growled as his hair was firmly gripped in a fist by the gloved Spymaster, which pulled back at his head.

“I don’t know just how we’re supposed to handle an interrogation when it’s all the fault of a mad woman!” He sneered. “High Overseer?”

The man behind him approached, watching the wild eyes glaring back up at him.

“I think I know just the punishment for this sort of crime… I would advise you to leave this to me, Burrows.”

 

 

\--------------------

 

 

Eyes fluttering, knees jerking. Something felt deeply wrong. It was the sense of defeat, mixed in with confusion. He didn't remember what exactly happened and how he's gotten here, but he felt unsafe. Almost bare - and hot while also cold. He parted his lips and exhaled, feeling the burning sensation in his dry throat. It hurt, but not like his back which he laid on. As soft as the surface was, the injuries felt rather fresh, and even a light press was agonizing. He attempted opening his eyes, looking around, but once more they have fluttered and closed. The walls were hot pink, a tinge of red. The air smelled like smoke, alcohol and wilted flowers.

_ Where was he? _

High Overseer Campbell approached Corvo's assigned chamber - his intricately decorated prison cell where he was destined to spend the remainder of his pitiful life - with a prideful, triumphant stride. He walked with purpose, and he was in a particularly giddy mood now that his associates' plan came to fruition.

Lady Kaldwin was in their possession and her Royal Protector was neutralized; of course he felt like celebrating this turn of events. And what better way to celebrate your enemy's defeat by adding insult to injury?

He opened the door to Corvo's room where he lay shackled and bare, still in agonizing pain from the tortures endured at Coldridge.

He looked pathetic in a rather appetizing way, and the High Overseer licked his lips in anticipation to branding Corvo's flesh in his own,  _ personal  _ way. This torture was going to be far more intimate than anything that went on in the interrogation room.

Campbell closed the door behind him and got closer to have a better look at Corvo's battered, disheveled frame.

"My, my," he breathed out a soft laugh, "How the tables have turned, my Lord." His eyes wandered down between Corvo's legs, where nothing indicative of Lordship even existed. Campbell looked disgusted, and poked at a wound in distaste.

His voice was familiar, yet it didn't immediately bring a face up in Corvo's head. His teeth came together to bare at the figure but snapped in a growl instead when he felt a finger poking at one of his wounds, a burn in the process of healing. He started remembering now…

Being branded.

His eyes shifted towards the figure obscuring the light, only to shut and close down once again in defeat. Hands forming fists, he exhaled again and then cleared his throat, releasing a few coughs.

Sore, he was so sore, even in this position which was supposedly relaxed on a mattress he doesn't remember being so soft. That's who the voice belonged to... Correct. It was the High Overseer, this sinner and cheat.

All he needed to confirm the man's identity to himself was to force a glance up, taking in the large figure clad in red before giving in for a rest. Having used this opportunity, he also took to realize just where he was. It also explained why his breath felt so restricted.

"You seem familiar with this place." Corvo hoarsed.

"And I expect you to become familiarized with it very soon yourself, dear Corvo." Campbell remained composed despite the obvious teasing. He knew Corvo won't have the mind for sarcasm soon enough; all he had to do was watch him break piece by piece and crumble away at the grasp of vicious clients. "You'll never see the outside world again." He growled and climbed up on the bed, on his knees, while undoing his fly. He didn't wish to dawdle or waste any more precious time, since he knew Corvo will quickly regain his bearings once he realizes what's going on and begin to resist.

Good thing the shackles were in place to prevent this.

Campbell smirked, spreading Corvo's legs apart and exposing his genitals for the Overseer's gaze to penetrate them first before any organ would. "Your kind disgusts me. To think an abomination like you stood by the late Empress' side..."

Corvo’s knees jerked again, one of which was pulled down from the weight tugging on it.

Once again he found himself restrained, but he never imagined they would find him this dangerous, that they would take all these precautions. The sensation of Campbell's skin against his own alarmed him, and the words coming pouring after only pushing him further over the edge. Grinding his teeth, he attempted on pushing himself up, on throwing his hands at him - but more chains yanked his wrists back, and the rest of his upper body with them.

He grunted in pain when his back met the tight fabric around it, trying to kick the air with his leg, forcing himself to open his eyes and glare up at the High Overseer. "There's nothing worse than a traitor and a coward."

Campbell simply laughed at Corvo's futile attempts to break free from his restraints, holding his captive's legs down harder. "You amuse me, thinking your words sound like anything but the desperate barks of a caged hound to me." He forced himself between Corvo's legs, balancing himself right above his battered face; the sadistic grin never once leaving his own. "I'll tell you what, Corvo. Maybe if you scream loud enough I'll reconsider having you relocated to my own personal basement." Campbell then spat on his fingers and harshly shoved them on Corvo's warmth.

He massaged the area, not thinking about anyone's pleasure but his own; his movements were crass and unforgiving, soon rendering Corvo's genitals red and swollen in no time. His eyes had the ravenous look of a predator as he scanned Corvo's face and body for reactions, leaving no inch of skin ignored.

"Stay back, you rat!" Corvo snarled. All attempts at kicking and pushing away were indeed futile when he was bound like this. Of course Campbell knew he had no chance otherwise - Corvo would be towering over him not only in size but also skill. The High Overseer was no more than a coward handling a sword.

Through gritted teeth he hissed, swallowing any cries and whimpers stuck in his throat. He was foul, reeking heavily of cigars and whiskey, along what he could only assume as sweat since he was so uncomfortably close. If he could swing his head from here, surely he would headbutt the bastard. But his head was hanging low, his voice barely escaping albeit the pain he was in, and eyes refusing to detach from those of Campbell's,  _ daring  _ him. Letting him know exactly just how he felt. Campbell only found Corvo's resistance to be more enticing, egging him on to continue at the same brutal pace, with the same mercilessness

Once he felt Corvo was wet enough to continue - more from his saliva than any actual arousal - he gave the other's now-pronounced clit a harsh pinch before using the moment of shock to slide two fingers into him, middle and ring.

"Even when you're bound and beaten you still fight huh..." He scoffed, invading deeper into Corvo's tight walls. "Your denial of your position is hysterical. Tragic, even." Campbell hooked his fingers upwards, pressing and massaging Corvo's upper walls. "You're no warrior, you're no  _ man _ . You were supposed to end up with your legs spread for strangers ever since you were a little girl, ever since you snuck up on that Serkonan whaling ship… Gristol has no use for whores like you." The Overseer spat his venom, all the while pumping Corvo's wetness with the hand that spilled more innocent blood than he'd ever care to admit.

Corvo’s blood was boiling, and it could be heard in his pained groans. There was no submission in them, no acceptance or defeat regardless of how bad things looked for him.

Just like during his stay at the prison, he refused to break and endured instead. He still had to admit that the situation was putting him on edge - unsettling him knowing where this was going to lead next.

Never has he imagined to end up below someone like this, to be taken by force. So he continued, even with the restricted space for his legs; trying to shove away or kick at the man's chest with his shins and knees while battling the pain the pressure was putting on his back.

"I know you feel insecure, having a "woman" be better than you in just almost anything -" He hissed, hips jerking from something the other have hit as he spoke, forcing him to suck in a breath. "But you won't have to live with this for much longer. Just until these chains are broken." He was bearing his teeth, his eyes finally break contact from those of the High Overseer, as if looking for something to sink his teeth in. To hopefully tear flesh away and feast on it before his very eyes. Punishment wasn't even considered in his head; as nothing would be worse than his current fate.

Campbell's calloused hand reached for Corvo's throat and squeezed - squeezed it so hard he felt every tendon, every artery, every constricting muscle in both his neck and his genitals, which Campbell's other hand was violating. Corvo’s head swung, trying to release itself from the iron grip whilst hands were to flail and pull violently on the chains. It was all for naught, his body soon trembling and spasming, eyes rolling back in their sockets.

The only sound he could make is a wheeze as his entire body was taken by the sensation of flaming ants crawling and sticking their needle legs in his skin. 

His grip on Corvo's neck tightened until he could see the other's eyes flutter. Immediately after, came a hiss. "You're misjudging the situation, dear Corvo. I'm not burdened by your skill or expertise. Not anymore, at least." His bent fingers pressed against the same sensitive spot over and over, teasing it, never letting go of Corvo's windpipe for even a moment.

Corvo's legs gave in, loosening along his wrists. The words spat at him could be heard, but at the same time immediately forgotten as his mind fogged and sight was turning to black, moments before the High Overseer's palm struck Corvo's cheek with animalistic force.

"Stay focused, bitch. You haven't yet earned unconsciousness." Campbell growled, pulling his fingers out from between his captive's legs as he simultaneously allowed him to breathe. Listened to him gasp and choke.

He positioned Corvo's legs up on his shoulders and averted his attention to freeing his cock from its own fabric prison, using the Royal Protector's brief period of haziness to slam his member into the same abused hole his fingers once occupied. He moaned, feeling himself swell up and fill Corvo's wetness with raw, uninhibited desire; the very carnal sin he commanded his Overseers to persecute and avoid. What a hypocritical savage he was. But he didn't care.

At first, the scream stuck in Corvo’s throat, but then his head threw back between bound arms, the cry of pain filling in the room. Teeth snapping together, his chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, eyes filling in tears. He could feel himself leaking, blood trickling down his rear and giving him an unpleasant, sticky itch until it reached the High Overseer's lap, soaking in his pants.

Campbell felt the blood coating his member, the warm, thick sensation of sanguine ichor indicative of his force, his violent thrust.

Mouth agape, unable to close, Corvo exhaled, trying his best to prepare for when Campbell would start moving with the same harsh motions his fingers have followed; but no amount of preparation would have him ready for what's to come.

He didn't wait too long for Corvo to regain his senses; he didn't allow his captive any sort of reprieve before resuming his movement, his hips tearing new wounds and violating existing ones; rubbing his cock against raw, sensitive flesh.

He didn't hold his voice back, moaning and panting heavily in Corvo's face, right next to his ear. Campbell tightened his grip on Corvo's thighs, relishing in his outcries of pain, soaking in them, as the heat from Corvo's body spread from his groin in waves of sickly pleasure. He liked this feeling, the feeling of power; triumphant with a chestful of pride, that he had Corvo in this position.

“You bastard!” Corvo shrieked, fists forming once more as he tried to reach the bald head of the High Overseer, to rip him to shreds, though with each thrust he has found himself losing control of his limbs.

It felt like it lasted forever. The pain, the violation, and worse of all Campbell’s smugness. He found himself unable to resist towards the end - his legs held high on the other’s shoulders and his arms were of no use, hanging over his head all bruised and chafed. He could only watch and clench his jaw in disgust and defeat when the High Overseer was pushed over the edge, grabbing at his hip and rear with both arms, moaning with great pleasure.

He was ecstatic, digging his nails into Corvo’s flesh as he filled him to the brim with his cock and allowed himself relief. 

“Why, you look so tired, Corvo,” Campbell said, finally getting off the younger man and allowing his legs back down to the bed. He stood up, watching Corvo’s abused hole pooling a pink mixture of blood and seed, turning to clean himself up. “You’re supposed to be in good shape for your clients.”

“You cannot keep me here… Chains cannot stop me.” Corvo managed to say.

“Oh, I know, you’re a very willing, mad woman. But if you so much as try to leave the Golden Cat’s walls, the Royal Spymaster and I won’t be the only ones knowing of your little secret.” He chuckled and turned over to the room’s large doors.

 

 

\--------------------

 

 

Corvo followed him with his eyes until he heard him speaking to the guards. He couldn’t keep his grip on consciousness any longer, the pain and exhaustion overtaking him.

Everything went black, for a split second. But then his eyes adjusted.

Corvo blinked rapidly, sitting himself up, looking down at his nude body. The injuries and scars were all there - even the branding on his skin, marking him as a prostitute. But not a single drop of blood stained his skin. Nothing hurt, either.

It almost felt like he was inside of his own head, with the floating pieces of land and whales flying - or rather, swimming - in the light blue sky. So much of it has reminded him of Dunwall, but at the same time -

“Hello, Corvo.”

The sudden voice echoing throughout the weird location caught Corvo by surprise, making him stand up in a jolt and look around him. His eyes locked on the humanoid figure of a young man, gliding with his feet just nearly touching at the stone floor. He hurried to try and cover himself up, frowning.

“This was a quick turn of events. The only woman who ever shared your kind of pain is now dead, and your daughter is taken away; held by those who would do anything to keep you away from her.” He mused. “If only they knew.” Shrugged.

“Who… -”

“I am the Outsider, and I have drawn you here to the Void to grant you my mark, hoping it will assist you some day.”

Corvo felt his hand burning, raising it up to watch as a shape forms across the back of his hand, glowing with mist mimicking flame.

“It might be too early for you, but I will always be here. Watching with great interest.”


	2. Tick Tock Goes the Clock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corvo starts forming a bond with Loulia, and meets two Overseers he will likely see again one day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A large part of it is filler and leads for the next chapter, but it has a lot of small details that are important for the later chapters. Pay close attention.
> 
> MxnicStxr didn't take part in this chapter.

When Corvo’s eyes opened again, he was once more welcomed by the bright-colored walls and a distant scent of smoke. He groaned, his voice raspy and throat still sore, dry, almost thinking the black-eyed man’s whispers to be but a vivid dream. Something within him still made him raise his left hand over his hazy gaze, noticing the mark that was etched to his skin in the world where all felt like nothing and melancholic whales swam in the sky.

 

Seeing that mark caused him to frown in relative confusion, but also other feelings he couldn’t quite grasp in his disheveled state. Corvo was truly overwhelmed with how things were already, with all the events that took place one after another, not giving him a moment of reprieve to figure out if this all was really happening or just a nightmare he cannot seemingly wake up from.

 

He narrowed his eyes and lowered his hand down to the bed by his side only to see the figure of a man standing by it, making him jolt up. The man was a guard, turning his head sharply at the sign of distress to meet Corvo’s wild eyes, approaching him quickly.

 

“Calm down, please, I didn’t mean to sca -”

 

“Leave me alone!”

 

The guard paused with his lips still parted halfway, as if his mind was still trying to finish the sentence he’s been trying saying. It was safe to assume he hasn’t been expecting this sort of reaction.

 

“I - cannot… I was told to wait for you until you regain consciousness and escort you to the washing room.” He tried to explain, his voice is calm and reassuring, but Corvo wasn’t pleased.

 

“I’m not going anywhere. You’re not taking me anywhere -”

 

“You’re making things much more difficult for yourself than you have to.”

 

With that, Corvo went silent. Breath hitching and teeth clenching firmly against each other, bared like a wild animal trying to scare away anyone who would want to harm it. But the guard ignored the warning signs, stepping closer and gently gripping on his biceps with a firm squeeze, causing him to flinch.

 

“I know you’re hurting and I also know you’re in pain. I don’t agree with that, but we need to get you clean, as well as some water.”

 

Corvo shook his head, placing the palm of his marked hand against the guard to push him away, watching as he took a step back, then take his blue coat off. The action caused for alarms in Corvo’s head, for the possibilities of what would come next - as perhaps a twisted punishment - still and all, the guard draped it around his nude form, encouraging him to cover himself up.

 

“Could you go, now?”

 

Hanging his head, clutching the coat in his fingers, Corvo couldn’t do more but take a step towards the guard, to stand by his side as a form of agreement.

 

Everything felt wrong. Disgusting. Crooked; misplaced. And soon the guard detached the long chain from the bed’s frame, looping it around his wrist. The other end of it was attached to a cuff clasped around Corvo’s ankle, ensuring the two to be inseparable.

 

“It’s hard to see another woman forced to work in this place.” He lamented, glancing over the chains.

 

As sympathetic as the shorter man’s sentiment was, Corvo could only feel anger at his words. His nails dug deep into the blue coat, pulling at it all the harder to hide every possible inch of his body.

 

_ I’m not a woman. I’m not a woman! _ He bared his teeth, his snarl making the guard perk his head to meet the twisted expression.

 

Without saying a word, the guard headed to the door, guiding Corvo with his steps.

 

***

 

“Girls. Please be helpful to Corvo until she regains her bearings. I’ll be by the door.”

Corvo said and did nothing at the sight of the guard taking the cuff off his ankle, refusing to let go of his coat even when he straightened up and gently tugged on it. Hinting for the other to give it back. After another tug he decided to ease the grip, nodded. “You can give it back once you’re dressed.” He reassured.

Then the door closed.

There were four women in the washroom, all of their curious - yet somewhat fearful - gazes casted upon the much taller Corvo. His eyes were wide open, madness and fury clear as day and sharp as the edge of a broken glass.

What else was clear is the women’s reluctance to approach. The man appeared as if he were to snap like a dry twig and terrorize anything that would come across him. Like he would paint the dirty-blue walls red with their blood if they tried as much as reaching out to him.

Yet one committed, and approached with heels to the quivering Corvo.

“Loulia -”

The woman waved her hand towards the one calling her name, not taking her eyes off Corvo’s face. She stopped close by him and eyed the upset man with her emerald green hues. The first thing she’s noticed were the bruises around his neck even if she pretended to never have looked there just one heartbeat later.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” She said in a soft tone, gently and carefully placing her hands on top of his. “Let me help you to the shower. Get the filth off you. It’ll make things just a little easier to tolerate.”

Corvo scowled, his lips tug up ever so slightly to bare his teeth.

But he was silent, nodding at her before aiming his warning glares to the other women present.

There was no much choice left for him, at least for the time being. He knew that much. What the black-eyed man told him appeared to be real - the mark was etched in his skin, and burned each time it glowed its teal-and-gold mist. It made him wonder just what could he possibly mean when he’s told him it was too early.

How long would he expect him to tolerate all of this? Corvo knew it wouldn’t be the last time the High Overseer would come to violate and humiliate him. He knew he was vulnerable and helpless with his identity at stake. Did the black-eyed man - the Outsider, was it? - expected him to know when his opportunity would arise?

What worried Corvo the most is the possibilities of how long it might just take for this opportunity. A week, a month, a year?

Corvo didn’t consider himself a believer. Never has he thought about deities and spirits being a reality..

But that night, Corvo found himself kneeling by the window with his ankle chained to the bed - praying.

 

***

 

It’s been almost a month, and while Corvo couldn’t say things were getting any easier to handle, he thought himself to be relatively composed as he watched the High Overseer get off of him.

Those evil, smiling eyes stared him down as he dressed back up, doing his belt around the red velvety material of his uniform, sneering to himself. His callous fingers then reached and traced along the corset Corvo was now wearing - he’s paid Madame Prudence coin from his very own pocket for it to match the metallic-blue makeup he was forced to apply. By now, the eyeshadow and lipstick were smeared across his face from the tears he’s shed.

Once his fingers touched at the bare skin of Corvo’s abused chest he lifted them up and adjusted in his stance.

“Now that you’ve learned your place, I find you quite endearing.” He laughed lightly, and Corvo frowned. Watching the man’s back as he directed to the doors, he could only long that a knife was present before him. A knife, scissors… Scissors would do the trick. It was over, at least, and he’s allowed himself to breathe as the door opened.

He relaxed too soon.

“I’ve got some matters to speak of with the Madame. You two can keep company to Raven - I couldn’t devote her all of my attention.”

Corvo grit his teeth, sitting up on the large, round bed which now was messy and dirty. He eyeballed the two Overseers as they stepped in, their gray uniforms gain a warm tint from the light cast from the walls. There was no telling what they were thinking with the permanent grimace their faded-gold masks inflicted towards him. He watched them close the doors behind before approaching, one slightly shorter than the other.

All he could see from his place is that the taller one had hazel-gray eyes, and the shorter light green, almost unnaturally so.

The stormy-eyed Overseer took his leather glove off and extended his hand to Corvo’s face, the gesture gentle and soothing, yet it wasn’t approved by the former Lord Protector. In one swift motion he cut his head and sank teeth into the man’s thumb.

Yelping, he retracted his hand away as Corvo bared his bloody teeth in a warning.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” He rasped. His protest was met with the back of the green-eyed Overseer’s hand, hard on his cheek. It seemed as his injured friend didn’t appreciate the heartfelt sentiment, clicking his tongue. With the blood still trickling down his finger, he was to pat the Overseer’s shoulder and extended his hand to Corvo again.

This time, to hold Corvo’s.

The former Lord Protector frowned, and watched the stormy eyes looking back at him. Unlike the other that slapped him, left a painful mark on his blushed cheeks, he played it calm and weirdly enough - almost friendly.

Not knowing what to make of it, Corvo gave him his hand; covered by a semi-transparent black and fingerless glove and black nail polish. He was forcefully feminized by the High Overseer and the Madame, but his hand still kept a masculine appearance to it with the scars and the visible veins.

Without waiting too long, the Overseer hugged Corvo’s waist with his free hand and pulled him to his body. Before he could react, the man sat down on the floor, back leaning against the bed, and Corvo sitting on his lap - back against his chest.

“Shh.” He whispered to his ear when the latter began squirming, sliding two fingers - middle and index - down between his legs.

Flinging his head back and onto the Overseer’s shoulder, Corvo allowed his eyes to shut. There was no point in resisting, he knew. There was no point at all.

Revenge would come, delicious and sweeter than honey.

It would be sweet, alright. As well as metallic, sticky and _intoxicating_.

 

***

 

 

“He’s quite late, isn’t he?”

“I think I saw the High Overseer yesterday at night, just as I headed upstairs. If things are as usual, I think he came here for him. Since when do you care?”

Loulia leaned over the sink, pooling water in her palms. “He’s done nothing to warrant a hostile reaction from us.”

“I don’t know, Loulia. Sure, “he” harmed no girl yet, but I personally never met a woman this delusional before.”

“Beatrice...” Loulia grunted, somewhat irritated.

The sounds of chains made the two women stop in their conversation, looking back at the door as it opened. They looked at Blue Raven as his name now was, accompanied by Dustan, before he was to remove the cuff off the ankle and close the door as he left, to give everyone their privacy.

Loulia scrubbed her soaked face and turned back to the mirror, trying to get the makeup off.

“Morning, Corvo.”

“Morning, Loulia.” He replied, raspy.

Looking over to the showers, he listened to the running water as he stepped over to the lockers and shuffled around. When returning, he settled in front of a mirror farther from the other two and leaned over to inspect his roughed-up face.

No one said anything about his appearance, ever.

After four months in this place, they all knew better.

It wasn’t uncommon for Corvo to appear one morning with a beaten up face, and today was in no way different. His night-sky blue lipstick was smeared and mixed with the crimson of his blood, which already dried on his face. His eyeshadow was too smeared, and left long trails caused by his tears which were understandable when there were bruises in the shapes of hands around his neck.

After four months in this place, Corvo’s voice was permanently damaged - even when he’s faked and played his part in sounding like a woman. He had a rasp, his voice was bubbling, as if he was purring along each sound that’s left his lips. The other courtesans already spoke of how ungodly he sounded.

At times, the girls would also swear there was a sudden new scar added to his body.

Without a word, he opened the tap and began washing, scrubbing his face in grunts. Unlike Loulia, he wasn’t all gentle on himself, working hard to get every bit of metallic blue off of his eyes and lips.

Beatrice perked a brow and gave a look and a shrug to Louila before she took over to the showers. “Goodbye, girls.”

Loulia rolled her eyes and dried her face by patting a towel on herself gently, stepping towards Corvo.

“Rough night?”

He haven’t replied, just gasped for air upon lifting his head from the sink, watching his reflection in the mirror again. His hair has gotten longer in his months here, and the many strands were sticking to his face, all the way down to his chin while the rest tickled at his collarbones.

Satisfied with his clean face, Corvo straightened his back and faced Loulia, which now had to lift her head to look him in his brown, lidded eyes. He was quiet taking the towel from her, but not without nodding in appreciation.

Another thing that was common with the man is that sometimes he would just stop talking altogether. She already reached the conclusion that this was likely his reaction to trauma. When he did speak, it either appeared like he was forcing himself, or when he was genuinely upset. However with his voice, Loulia wouldn’t blame him. It was painful to talk, she could see the strain on his face.

“Need help re-applying?” She tried a question again, as he rubbed his face.

There was a moment where he stopped moving, eyes locked on the showers. He then shook his head for a negative, watching the girl joining them near the mirrors.

“My corset, please.” He asked instead.

Loulia nodded. “Sure, turn around.”

She loosened the strings, and with a few grunts and moans, she finally removed the piece from Corvo, but frowned at what she saw underneath.

“Corvo?”

He placed the corset on the chair by the sink, turning his head to look at her in question. Louila couldn’t really think of a way to ask, or just say it, so she grabbed their unsuspecting friend instead, almost making her jam her eyeshadow-covered finger into her own eyeball.

She pointed at his stomach, making the other two look down.

“That’s... definitely a belly.” Her friend nodded. Hesitant.

Corvo appeared calmer than Loulia expected him to be, though that could be just his fatigue - or even denial.

“Madame Prudence won’t be too happy.” She added.

“And neither will be High Overseer Campbell.” Corvo remarked.

“The High Overseer?”   
  


“You think it’s his?”

He just shrugged, though then he spoke again. “He visits each week, at least once.”

Corvo knew the danger, and acknowledged the concern on the women’s face, but there was nothing he could do about it - and he knew that too. As soon as Campbell would notice or be told, he’ll make sure to make it slow and agonizing for Corvo and relish in ripping his child from him once again.

Just as he did with Emily.

In a sense, Corvo had to admit that when it came to the High Overseer’s child - he wasn’t all that attached.

“Corvo -”

He cut Loulia off, with no audible anger or even irritation in his voice. It was all strain and defeat that guided him instead. “If I’m not worried, you shouldn’t be either.” He nodded at her again, and left to the showers.


	3. Ego Homini Lupus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wolf has come to Raven's aid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am having a bit of a problem writing lately due to a slump in my mental health, so I'm releasing this before I forget.
> 
> I'm still working on the rest, but it'll probably take longer, and I don't know when I'll upload next.

“The Knife of Dunwall is here!”

 

All the courtesans in the washing room lifted their head at the frantic, fearful whisper their fellow girl spouted as soon as she closed the door behind her. She rushed over to the small group, rubbing her shoulders.

 

“What is he doing here, Betty?”

 

“I don’t know, and I didn’t wish to stick around long enough to listen. Didn’t want him to see my face.”

 

Corvo scowled, rising from his seat. “He won’t lay a finger on you. I won’t let him.”

 

Jessamine’s killer. What was he doing here? Did he know he was here, and came to finish the job? Was he here for the Pendletons on some job of his?

 

Loulia rose up from her seat as well, but before she had the chance to speak, the door opened, and Madame Prudence stepped in, pointing at Corvo.

 

“Raven, fix yourself up and hurry your ass to the Smoking Room.” She said, turning to leave as abruptly as she appeared. “Don’t make your client wait.”

 

Silence fell after the door closed, and Corvo knew all eyes were set on him. His hands formed to fists but he hasn’t said a word, heading back in front of the mirror to finish applying his makeup.

 

“What are you going to do?” Loulia asked after what felt like forever.

 

Corvo wouldn’t answer. He stared his own reflection in the eye, sucking in a deep breath.

 

He didn’t know.

 

 

***

 

 

Corvo stopped, looking at the man before him. The guard leading him in, carrying the shackles attached to the cuff on his left ankle proceeded to click them to place in the wall, just by the door. The chains were long enough for him to roam quite freely inside the room - but nothing beyond.

“I will be outside if she’s any problem.” Said the guard.

Closing his palms into fists, Corvo simply took a deep breath at the remark. He couldn’t expect a simple guard - or anyone, really - to understand that he was no she. With the corset around his waist, heeled boots, torn stockings and make-up on his face, no one would take him seriously.

Not even the one who ordered him in.

By now, Corvo truly gave up.

_ Fate is a cruel mistress, _ he thought to himself. The very man that killed his Empress ended up as one of his clients; maybe this was even on purpose. Maybe he knew exactly who Blue Raven was, even with the layers of color, the lost muscle mass, shaven face, and hair that grew long enough to hide most of his face. Teeth bare, Corvo quietly growled at the man but made no aggressive advances towards him. Instead, he took the hand offered to him and walked to the round bed in the center of the room and watched as Daud sat down and pulled at his waist, forcing Corvo to sit on his lap.

_ Does he know? _ He found himself wondering again. Corvo could barely contain himself, the thought of having to serve the very man that got him imprisoned in this nightmare made his body tremble with fury. Gloved palms reached up to Daud’s shoulders and grasped tightly on his coat, his eye staring into those of the older man, the other obscured by his long hair.

A frown formed on Corvo’s face when the Daud was just eyeing him, as if disinterested in him completely. Which he wished to be true. At the same time, he asked himself if Daud perhaps preferred himself to initiate the contact.  _ Bastard. _

“Aren’t you going to fuck me?”

The words snapped Daud’s blue eyes back to Corvo, clearing his throat. “You see, it is my first time in a place like this. Would you take the lead for me?”

_ What in the void? _ Corvo exhaled, his brows furrow further as he stares at the older man. He’s being toyed with, he just knew it. But there was nothing that he could do about the matter.

Slowly, Corvo began caressing the man’s chest, getting a feel of it before clutching at the fabric of his coat again. He was sick to his stomach, but he would get punished if he was to give any trouble to the Golden Cat. On top of that, there was no knowing just how Daud would ruin his life further if he was to mess this up.

All he could wish for is that this wouldn’t become a common thing, that the Knife of Dunwall wouldn’t become a regular of his like the High Overseer. The very little comfort Corvo had in all of this is that the man was seemingly easy-going.

Corvo envied the muscles he felt underneath the tunic. He trailed his fingers back to Daud’s chest, flat, firm.  _ Masculine _ . The bastard looked good, and his voice sounded even better.

He wanted to tear him open and crawl into his skin. Wear the body he wished to have. It was twisted, but seeing the man wasn’t even sparing him a glance made him feel worse.

Ugly. He felt undesired and  _ ugly _ .

His fingers then trailed down to Daud’s crotch, allowing Corvo to excuse himself and get off his lap. While undoing the man’s pants, he already noticed again his eyes wandering around the room, rather than focusing on him. Was he feeling guilty? Uncomfortable? Was he really just disinterested in him after all?

Once more, Daud’s attention jumped back to Corvo at the sudden jolt in his spine. Corvo just took the tip of his flaccid member to his mouth, tongue pressed against the slit, watching how careful he was. He was holding at the base of Daud’s awakening cock, and stroking his thigh with the other, pushing it ever so slightly to make the older man spread his legs for him.

But there was barely any reaction or excitement from the older man. The most he did is to put his hand down on the back of Corvo’s head, but there was no pressure or force with the gesture. He left all the work for Corvo, and in a way, the Courtesan started believing that maybe indeed this was the Assassin’s first, maybe  _ ever _ .

Each time Corvo’s head advanced closer to his base, Daud could feel an electric jolt of pleasure coursing through his spine. He wasn’t used to such a feeling, releasing quiet grunts and moans while still refusing to look at Corvo - which slowly came to realize what the man was really doing.

He was looking for something, and was hurrying to find it, too. Was he using him as a ruse? A scapegoat once more? Or was there something more to it?

Corvo squeezed at the thigh, caressing it softly before resting his palm on top of it, drawing Daud’s attention back to him once more.

This time around, Daud didn’t give him an excuse or an apologetic look, his eyes locking on something else instead. Something that finally caught his interest.

His eyes were stuck on the back of Corvo’s left hand, on the tattoo-like mark hiding under a black, semi-transparent glove. It almost looked like the color was leaving his face, yet his hard-on twitched in Corvo’s mouth.

It was a positive reaction, for the very first time. In a way, he was grateful that Daud was beginning to enjoy himself because he was almost at loss. The only thing he’d hate more than pleasing the bastard is to have and deal with the consequences of his dissatisfaction once he leaves.

Taking the erect member out and away from his mouth, Corvo grunted, watching the blue smears across it from his lipstick. He swallowed the bitter precum, and pushed himself up, guiding Daud to lay back on the bed while taking his underwear off.

He noticed that no longer Daud’s eyes wandered beyond his silhouette, looking at his face and body, with his eyes sometimes going back to the mark on the back of his hand. Corvo touched at the area, wondering if Daud knew what this mark meant as he climbed on top of him, his lower half completely nude.

“Wait... “ Daud’s hand rested down on Corvo’s hip, furrowing his brows. “Give me something to moan, at the very least.”

Without thinking twice, he has given his name. “Corvo.” He simply said. Every client already knew, even if they still treated him like a troubled and confused woman. His name was all that’s left for him - and Blue Raven be damned.

Daud stared as Corvo positioned himself on top of him, using his weight to impale himself down to the hilt. A moan escaped him, a moan carrying Corvo’s name with utmost pleasure, the rigids and curves tightening around his hardened member.

It was obvious to Corvo that now he knew, and suddenly very much enjoyed himself. Bucking his hips up and down, he leaned back, riding Daud in rough, quick motions - caring little about the soreness in his own body. The pleasure his identity gave to this man made him feel ten times worse than he already has. All he wanted is for this to be over.

Daud’s knees jerked, hands gripping firmly at Corvo’s hips. “Corvo… Corvo!” The older man called, pushing his hips against the one on top of him, meeting their pelvises together with each thrust. His head was thrown back, his neck deliciously exposed for Corvo to grasp on and choke.

It was so tempting.

“I am… I’m about to - Ahh..!”

Clenching his teeth, Corvo continued riding Daud’s orgasm, watching him jolt and twitch beneath him in waves. He could feel his member swell and stretch him further from inside, then limping and shrinking in size. Trying to catch his breath, Corvo glanced at Daud as he slowly sat up, still shaking. He wrapped his arms around the back of his neck, watching the dazed eyes look up at him.

“Corvo…” He muttered.

“What.”

Daud could hear just how defeated the man sounded, his eyes rolling back in their sockets before inevitably closing. Corvo was preparing himself for another request, or a confession of sorts, something that would only serve to humiliate him further, but the silence kept on stretching.

While the older man was recollecting himself, Corvo got himself off, went ahead and grabbed a towel by the table near the bed to wet it using the water bowl. He then returned to Daud and used the damp cloth to clean him, but didn’t bother with himself.

“Is that really you?”

Corvo rose a brow by the confusion and disbelief he could hear in the man’s voice. After going this far, he still held to the chance that this was someone else?

He decided to answer with a question, a daring one more than anything. “What do you mean?”

Daud frowned, pushing himself to a more comfortable position as his body turned to face the man who appeared to be utterly defeated, but sounded like he was about to snap. Raising his hand, he moved away the long bangs, and lifted his chin up, forcing Corvo to look at him. Squinting, Daud exhaled in something that the other could only interpret as disgust, or just more disbelief.

“It really _ is  _ you. What have they done to you?”

His tone really got Corvo worked up, slapping his hand off of him as he bared his teeth once more. The towel was tossed at the older man’s lap. “I don’t need your pity.” Growled, with a voice as low as Daud remembered hearing from him in the past. “I don’t need  _ anyone’s  _ pity. But especially not yours, you wretched  _ pig _ .”

“Wait, let me explain -”

“Explain what?” His voice remained quiet, raspy and strained, but his tongue was sharp. “That you thought it would be a great experience but only then realized you stuck your dick in some freakshow? Or that you perhaps expected me to have a whole other set of genitals? That you suddenly developed a conscience? That you’re sorry? That -”

“I’m here to get you out.” Daud spoke over him, hoping it’ll quiet him down.

And it did.

If it was any other situation, Daud would likely find the expression Corvo froze on as highly amusing, but in this instance, he understood him all too well. He rose on his feet, tucking his soft member back to his pants and adjusted his clothes on himself, glancing over at Corvo which was grabbing at his head, in a loss.

“I know it’s all happening too fast, but there’s a group of people who contacted me, saying they had an inside-person claiming you’re still alive. They wanted me to smuggle you out, so they could work with you on making things right again. But nobody told me what to expect, so I went with my only lead.”

The explanation didn’t make anything easier for Corvo to swallow; his headache only growing worse as part of him started detaching from reality.

“After killing the woman I loved, the only person who accepted me for what and who I am - you dare come here, fuck me, and then claim you’re on my side?”

Daud inhaled, then sighed deeply. “I needed your name, or at least some solid confirmation that it really is you. They didn’t tell me anything about you but the simple fact they heard the High Overseer is visiting here for what could be covering up tracks. This… and the tattoo on the back of your hand.”

He did his best to justify himself, but he knew that neither he or Corvo cared about the technicalities. They were both painfully aware of how much Daud was enjoying himself just a few minutes ago. Of course, he still felt guilty for taking pleasure in something this one-sided, but he knew Corvo didn’t care about what he feels.

Neither did he, now that he thought about it.

“I’ll need you to continue playing along until we’re out of here. I know it’s a lot to ask, but -”

“Let’s just get this over with.” Corvo rasped again, the defeat is audible in his voice once more. Daud allowed him to put his underwear back on as he headed to the door, peeking outside to make sure the guard outside was currently alone.

He remained still for a few long minutes, until he finally straightened up and gestured to Corvo be ready.

“Guards!” He shouted, taking a step from the door. “Get her away from me!”

They both remained quiet as heavy steps hurried and barged the door open and stood by Daud when something odd happened.

The older man raised his left hand and strained to pull it down when the world suddenly turned grey around them. Corvo noticed that regardless of the rubber glove on his hand, he could still see a mark identical to his glow with a trail of light following each movement. He himself found difficulty moving, but Daud seemed unaffected. As if everything was normal he pushed the door closed, picked up his sword from the table, and impaled the guard’s chest.

And just like this, everything went back to normal.

Time was moving again, the colors pop back into his eyes. He took a step back, watching Daud grab the keys from the corpse before it was even to hit the floor, and did nothing as he kneeled down to release the cuff from his leg.

His eyes moved to his very own mark, asking himself if this is what the black-eyed man spoke of in his dreams, when he branded him after the High Overseer’s very first visit.

Corvo went deep into thought, so much so that he flinched when something suddenly touched at him. Daud was draping his red coat around him, closing two buttons to cover his bare chest.

  
“We’re getting out of here,  _ now _ .”


	4. A Whaler Named Geoff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corvo and Daud finally arrived at the Flooded District, and the former Lord Protector is introduced to the base's best medic that goes by the name Geoff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a much too short chapter, but I am slowly returning to writing again. Sorry for the long wait. I've also made artwork especially for one of the (Veeeeeeery) later chapters.
> 
> MxnicStxr helped me writing Daud and Geoff in this chapter.

What a welcoming party it was.

The same whaler uniforms, as well as their masks staring at and observing Corvo like they did that eventful day. He glared back at them from his place in the Knife's arms, clutching the red coat around him to hide himself from possibly prying eyes, his own slightly wide and shifty as they pick on every movement of theirs.

He wasn't too ready to have hands lift the coat up once he was placed down on his feet. A feral snarl was sent back to the older man as he threw him back a glance. The tugging was pressing on his stomach, making him nauseous and alarmed. By the time he sent his hand back to push Daud, the corset was already in his hands, and both breathing and standing upright was all the easier. In a way, it took some of the irritation off of him, too.

Geoff was among the group of assassins that stood by and observed as their master came back from what he personally deemed a suicide mission. It wasn't the first time Daud threw himself into the fray, unthinking of consequences, evident by how he accepted the job that damned all of Gristol and the rest of the Isles to months of darkness.

That cursed job. But he knew to keep his criticisms to himself.

Being the so called medic of the squad - really, just a man with more knowledge in the field than most - Geoff approached the two. He looked much more relaxed in comparison, his muscles not as tense, though his uniform did make the fluidity of Geoff's motions more rigid than it should have been. Nevertheless, he spoke with respect.

"Master, let me take a look at him before you decide on what to do next. He looks just about ready to drop."

Daud gave Geoff a stern look, glancing at Corvo for a brief moment. "He'll live." The Knife of Dunwall said flatly, but Geoff figured it was to mask the emotional turmoil that was probably brewing in his chest like a storm.

"Of course," Geoff nodded, "But alas, I must still insist."

"Fine." A little too quick to agree, Geoff noted. All he was really capable of doing was to guess what's going through his master's mind, but he took whatever opportunities were given to him, learning not to ask too many questions. The medic turned his attention to Corvo once he received Daud's approval, however half hearted it was.

"Good. Come with me."

Corvo slouched slightly, though it was hardly noticeable with the heels on his feet. Slim and long as they were, the heels were perfect if he wanted to harshly step on one of the men's feet, though he kept that idea to the back of his head.

Right now he was busy sending threatening glares towards the masked man before he was to look again towards his leader, clutching the coat tighter. It's not like he trusted the Empress' murderer, but it was even harder to trust a voice without a face. He narrowed his eyes at the man but knew there was not much resistance he could put against them. He was sore - partially his own fault - and dare he say exhausted from what Daud put him through.

Corvo could say that just to recover from seeing his face he would need a few days.

His ability to speak was once more thrown out the window, the thick lenses and his inability to see the eyes behind them makes him nervous and agitated all over again. So instead of obliging he sent another growl towards Daud, without breaking eye-contact with the mask in front of him. It looked like all the others were just standing there, idle.

Neither changed positions, whispered a word, or turned their heads away from the scene.

Daud looked more irritated than anything else. All he wanted right now was to be left alone, to have some time to clear his head and reorganize his thoughts, but here he was trying to tame a wild animal named Corvo. He was partially at fault here, he knew. But the Abbey played their own part in this sick game as well.

"You should probably get yourself checked." Daud spoke as calmly as he could force himself to at the moment. "He's our medic."

Hearing Daud’s voice alone made Corvo feel hot in his face. His nose tugged and twitched at the corners, baffled. He was simply baffled at the flip in his attitude and reactions. The Knife wouldn't look him in the eye, and suddenly it was like his heart was of ice again.

Coward. Pig! He cursed in his mind, tearing the bright red coat reeking of the man's scent - something that he clung to out of familiarity and desperation - and turned around with his back to the masked assassin. His hand angrily tossed it at the older man's head, catching him off-guard with the gesture.

Daud raised his hand up to catch the oncoming projectile tossed at his face but couldn't do so in time and now had to pry it off his head, huffing in annoyance. He turned on his heels in the opposite direction, coat still in his hand rather than bothering to put it back on.

Growling again, Corvo turned his glare to Geoff. "Move." He rasped, his voice is low and shaken.

"The rest of you, scatter." Daud ordered his men and ran his hand through his hair to smooth back stray strands, transversing before anyone even managed to move first.

Geoff simply observed, and once Daud left, allowed himself to chuckle, completely ignoring Corvo's hostility as he turned around as well to let the man pass him. "I'll direct you to someplace more private."

Corvo’s arms went and crossed over his bare chest, just almost regretting his actions. More due to the bare state he was in right now rather than the blatant disrespect he expressed towards the armed assassin and the possible precautions it could lead to in the future.

During his time following the masked man he's been silent, sometimes coughing. Head moving around, trying to get familiar with the area and look for possible escapes or objects for him to defend himself with if it'll come to it. There was not much to go on about the man, but something in his voice put Corvo off. He bit inside of his cheek and watched as he was brought to a room within the ruined homes.

A room that seemed like a bedroom - yet it didn't appear like anyone was walking around here, scouting or patrolling. It was truly… a more private setting. Perhaps it was his home? For one reason or another, it didn't make Corvo any calmer. His frown remained as he observed the man, sitting down at the first given opportunity.

Even if the ground was dusty and unwashed.

Geoff didn't wait too long and didn't speak beyond what was necessary, unceremoniously picking up his toolkit and a bottle of alcohol. For disinfection of any possible wounds and a drink. Double efficiency.

He approached Corvo who he discovered was already sitting down, weary. Geoff tilted his head slightly and chuckled. "You must be exhausted from what Daud put you through."

It was easy to pick up on his exhaustion, his eyes were no longer wild but rather lidded and only partially open, though still locked on the man in front of him. His shoulders were slumped, hands trembling slightly though he haven't fought much longer before he allowed them to fall to his bruised lap.

Rocking in his place, back and forth. Corvo tried to find a position to sit in which wasn't hurting him in one area or another. His confusion was audiable when he parted his lips, though quickly he came to wonder if that's even what the assassin meant. "He told me it was his first time..." He frowned.

He was so tired that he haven’t even bothered to double-check before talking.

Geoff was a little taken aback by Corvo's answer, not expecting to hear anything of that sort, but it granted the former Royal Protector a light laugh out of the assassin, who set down his tools and knelt beside Corvo's battered body. "My, is that so."

There were rumors circulating all around the isles about Daud's possible sexual escapades (Or therelackof), but to hear something solid and of this nature from Corvo made things...a little awkward. The validity of those words was still put into question, but, for hilarity's sake, Geoff treated them as truth.

He won't look at Daud the same way for the next week or so.

"Any injuries or aches you can report?"

"Your Master wouldn't like you to look there." He sneered.

"My Master would also not like having you die of dysentery, now, would he." Stated as more of a fact than a question, Geoff began digging around his tool bag, retrieving a few trinkets and ointments from within the cloth satchel. "I'm not doing this for fun." Geoff added, and indeed, he was keeping up a neutral, distant demeanor despite the occasional joke here or there.

"If you don't want me using my hands, how about you do it yourself?" Geoff handed Corvo a few pads of clean gauze and a washcloth, as well as a small vial and jar of green-looking ointment. "Rub this down there and it should help with the pain and prevent inflammation."

Corvo only stared at his hands, his own trembling and twitching lightly. He could feel his stomach twist and turn, His eyes slowly lifted to the mask, blinking slowly as he could hardly muster anything in him to try and speak. He shook his head, so slow as if he was afraid any faster movement would cause him to throw up, before he exhaled slowly.

"I can't..."

Geoff could only watch and crawl closer as the man before him fluttered his eyes, struggling to keep them open.

“Stay with me, now.” He said, settling down the jar to grab at the former Lord Protector’s shoulder, nudging him gently.

“Stay with me.”


	5. A Weasel And A Cheat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone is finally good to Corvo.
> 
> Big WOW. Big Appreciate.
> 
> Things are finally looking up for Corvo.
> 
> ...Oh, wait a second...

" _ I would be careful in this company, if I were you. _ "

 

This was the last sentence Corvo remembered before jolting awake, grabbing at his head. The mark on the back of his hand burned, glowing gold and teal. He was stuck staring at his trembling limbs to look around him and recognize he was being watched.

 

His mind went back to the events before he fell asleep - not that he could really remember when that exactly happened. The last memory was of himself becoming dizzy and lightheaded when Geoff got closer, his mask looming over him.

 

_ Did I crash? _

 

Exhaling, he moved his hand down to his stomach, clutching it tight as he pushed himself up, stumbling in his steps. His mind was still foggy, the warning carried by the Outsider's tongue repeating in his head like a broken audiograph, making his vision spin and blur as he headed over to the ledge. He couldn't recall the context, nor put his finger on the "company".

 

Did he mean the Knife of Dunwall, or the assassins he's been surrounded by? Maybe even Geoff? Neither were trustworthy in his opinion, but regardless, he had no choice when it came to each of them.

It appears as if  _ nothing  _ was his choice anymore. No one cared of his opinion, nobody  _ asked  _ him what he wanted.

Nobody but Geoff.

Corvo faintly remembered Daud ordering the masked medic to tend to his nausea before departing. Where, he didn’t know. But what he could remember next is how comforting the warm hands were. So comforting he wished - no, begged - the man to replace the Overseer’s hands with his own.

It was pathetic, he felt, but the assassin that had a likely chance to take a part in his loved-one’s murder made him feel desired and loved.

_ His master should take notes _ .

Leaning over edge, he looks down as his head was to pound again, forcing him to sit down before he would fall over.

The whaler watching him from behind cocked his head to the side before taking a step towards him, but Corvo could hear he stopped and disappeared instead. By the chatter he picked up next he understood he went to report the odd behavior, growling to himself. He couldn't get up or to bark at the people below to shut up, his jaw locking in place instead, as he felt something trying to come up his throat.

_ Damn it all to the Void... _ He cursed in his mind, trying to crawl back and away to the bed he woke up on, only to have a pair of legs stand in his way as he turned around. Next, his arm was grabbed, resulting in yet another growl coming out of the man. His growls quickly turned to grunts when he was pulled up on his feet, his arm stretched around the assassin's neck as he guided him back to the bed, and sat him down.

He found himself unable to move and resist much during the treatment, blacking in and out during the time two of the assassins have took care of him. All he remembered is the urge to bend over the bed's edge and empty his guts on the floor, or punch one of them in their whaling mask.

He was lucky enough to black out again, and wake up at a better condition - this time noticing the masked man standing by the window watching him.

Corvo stared at him a moment longer, his eyes heavy and lidded. And quickly found himself sitting on the bed rather than standing up.

Glancing down at himself, he’s noticed folded clothes by his feet. His eyes went wide with surprise when he recognized the golden pattern and the buttons - it was the uniform he wore as the Royal Protector.

Ignoring it all, he stood up again, dressing himself in the clothes he felt familiar with the most. The uniform that made him the respected and feared Lord Protector, a masculine figure that no one questioned before it was wrongfully torn off his body in the interrogation room.

It wasn’t long before his sight clouded with tears, making his task a little difficult - and the Whaler noticed.

“Lord Corvo.” The voice spoke, Geoff’s voice it was. Corvo arched his brows and turned his head in time to see the man disappear into black mist and reappear before him, just inches away from his body. “What is the matter?”

Not like he was blind to what was unfolding before him.

Having seen what he’s seen, and told what he’s been told, Geoff wasn’t surprised when Corvo couldn’t muster it in him to even utter a word. He watched the taller man’s lips tremble and the same wild eyes stare back at him in a mixture of confusion and grief. Some defeat, and gratitude as well.

Instead of trying to force an answer out of him, Geoff spared a glance towards the stairs and pulled his dark hood black, exposing blond locks of hair before he was to take the mask off as well. A man in his early thirties he appeared to be, with light green eyes and fair skin.

Corvo had to blink away tears to have a better glance at him, the first man he could see the face of beneath these horrible masks that haunted him in his nightmares.

He hated masks. After both the Whalers and the Overseers he was utterly done with them.

Seeing the medic under the leather made him feel a little calmer, a little better. Better enough to pull Geoff closer to his body and press their lips together; something that surprised the other a little, but not too much.

Not enough to not return the gesture, gently pushing Corvo to sit back on the bed.

“This is Daud’s bed, you know?” He chuckled, giving Corvo a hint of a smirk. “But Daud ain’t here…”

 

-

 

What a lovely evening it was.

Corvo slept through the entire evening and night - the physical pain and then his fun little activity with Geoff left him utterly fatigued, enough for a long sleep. He could recall Daud tried to wake him up earlier, but he shrugged him off.

He sent a glare towards Geoff when he finally stood up and off the bed, and made his way downstairs, looking around him. Each door was guarded, and so was the window. Looked like they didn't take chances with him, be it because of his status, because of their deeds, or because that damned mark he shared with their leader.

Were they standing guard this entire time? Ever since he lost his consciousness at Geoff’s place, upon his very arrival? Did this mean they all heard of the two’s deed?

"You're finally up."

There was the distinct noise of rustling papers and the closing of a heavy logbook as the Knife of Dunwall himself shut his private journal to glance up at his prisoner, the Lord Protector, that unlucky sod - being shipped from one end of Dunwall to the next in a matter of mere days, as if he was nothing but a crate of whale meat. They sure treated him that way back at the Golden Cat, but Daud didn't like thinking about those times.  _ That  _ time. When he joined the long list of people who used Corvo Attano's body for their own sick pleasure.

It was different in Daud's case, but he knew Corvo wouldn't care for such…  _ technicalities _ .

The Knife rose up from his seat and eyed him up and down, frowning. He waited for the battery of questions and accusations. Maybe some death threats.

But none came. Not right then, at least.

Corvo's teeth clenched against each other as he eyed the Assassin, calmer than how he appeared to be at the Cat. Not a sound made it past his lips as his own brows were to knit together to a frown, as if he was mimicking Daud's behavior of expecting the worst out the other.

His gaze tore from him to the window by the stairs, his legs bring him to look outside, just to recognize the place at the sight of the large statue. He remembered being there for Jessamine when she stood like this, so proud, with the crown around her head. Now just a crumbling stone to decorate the base of her very murderer.

His knuckles turned white with his grip on his vest - which almost didn't fit him when he first tried to put it on. He lost a lot of weight during his time at the Golden Cat, even with the belly he could squeeze through and hope it wouldn't be all obvious to the rest - though they were all present when Daud tore the corset from him, and when he himself threw the red coat off his other-wise nude body. He bit his lip, drawing out blood, making Daud question just why he's gone so quiet so suddenly.

With a puzzled expression on his face Daud took a few more steps towards Corvo, but the younger man was just as confused. It started at the very moment the blade impaled his loved one's chest. All ability to scream or even talk was taken away from him at the worst of times, like when he tried to explain himself to the guards, or speak during his interrogation.

Not that it would matter to the biased High Overseer and the so-called Lord Regent.

He managed to part his lips just barely, only for his jaw to lock once again, as if his body had a will of its own. His eyes met those cold, blue ones of the Big Knife that perked a little in his place, raising a brow in uncertainty.

He looked just the way he did when Daud's blade pierced through the Empress' heart - shocked and uncertain of what to do next.  _ Dead eyes _ , he recalled. Glazed over with what he could only assume was a volatile concoction of thoughts and urges, with his mind being unable to lock on a single one.

"Look at you." He spoke, breaking the heavy silence between them. "I can't say I recognize the legendary Royal Protector in you anymore..."

Was this an attempt to provoke, or spark some flame in Corvo's eyes? Was Daud trying to to a facade in front of his men, to appear tough?

The staring turned to a glare from Corvo's side, as his furrowed brows relaxed and visibly, so did his jaw. He had a nonchalant expression on his pale face, his tired eyes blinking slowly as his fingers grabbed at the blue coat hugging his body. But in reality, he was seeing red.

Only one thing stopped him from reaching for Daud's throat and it wasn't the fact all his men caught attention of the event after what their leader spat his way, no. In fact, they seemed just as puzzled as to why he would try and provoke the Lord Protector when he was in an obvious unstable state. Corvo was completely unarmed, still figuring out his own gifts left by the Outsider on his skin.

Geoff told him that the rescue mission was prompted by a conspiracy called “The Loyalists”. An inside man caught a wind of the rumor that Blue Raven was no other than Corvo Attano and hired Daud to find and retrieve the person in question. The only indicator he had to go by is the Outsider’s mark.

If only that inside-man would tell him it was right on the back of his hand, maybe the rest could’ve been spared of both Corvo and Daud in that dreadful scene.

Corvo was drawn back to reality, remember that they - the whalers, meanwhile, were so confident in their abilities that they went ahead and dared lay their hands on the Empress in front of her Royal Protector.

And still, they remained silent as Daud's words echoed through the chambers.

Corvo stood just an inch away from Daud's face, only then managing to come up with the force to talk back.

"It wouldn't be possible without you."

His words were quiet, but loud enough for everyone else to listen, considering how silent the place was during the early morning. Daud's eyes slowly moved to look at Corvo's lips - still stained blue for the most part. So was the area around his eyes. His body tensed, even if it was barely noticeable for anyone but Corvo, making his own lips part, though he was cut off.

"But don’t you worry." He nearly whispered, before suddenly grabbing at the Assassin's red overcoat. "Because I’ll be coming back, Void-damned pig! I'll come back. I'll never forget to come back and force-feed you the corpses of your men!"

The masked assassins perked in their place, unsure if to approach their master, which stood his ground and kept his eyes in contact with those brown, wide ones of Corvo.

"Mark my words, Big Knife - I'll step into these doors again and my face will be painted with the blood of those you hold closest." He growled.

Daud remained unfazed throughout Corvo's entire outburst, keeping a straight face albeit having some irritation seep onto his features. He knew, somewhere inside of him, that Corvo's anger was justified; six months of nightmares and the crushing weight of smothering guilt making him tired. Weary. Of being torn up inside since the Empress' death.

Still, he reacted with a coldness much akin to the steel he drove through the Empress' heart.

"Put him away, until he learns his place. We need him alive."

It took a moment for the void to whisper behind Corvo's ear, the familiar sound of teleportation and transversal become a louder one the second time, right behind him. A gloved hand reached from to him, tightly gripping at his shoulder, pressing on it firmly and pulling to pry him away from the red coat before he could grasp Daud’s windpipe next.

One of the hands indeed released itself from Daud and extended to the assassin, a scowl on Corvo’s face. A sharp huff came out of him, fingers painted black aim for what little neck was exposed beneath the mask and above the collar for the form-fitting tunic, like a much-provoked feline. Breath hitched. Chest moving unevenly. Eyes darting from one mask to another.

The assassin needed to take a step back before raising his hand again, this time striking Corvo across his bruised cheek. The worn-out leather left an immediate mark, and a sound that echoed in the Chamber like the thud that was to follow; when the Lord Protector tried to balance himself with the hand still grasping on the bright-red coat but failed.

There was a moment of silence which switched with heaving from the fallen man as he came to understand what has happened, the fury and bitterness replaced with confusion and pain instead. He's felt the boot belonging to Daud - beneath his temple - move away, groaning and instinctively protecting himself from possible incoming attack such as a kick, but none came.

Instead he heard a faint gasp above of him, followed by the squeaking of leather. Daud snapped his teeth and watched as his Whaler corrected his head from glancing at Corvo to his own person, rightfully defensive. He was quick to part his lips and speak.

"Master, I -"

"I don't want to hear it!" He shouted, making Corvo flinch beneath him from just how unexpected the lashing was. It was noticeable for the man in the red coat, which sneered and watched his man try cautiously approach the two of them, before he shoved him back with his palm against his chest. "The none of you know how to treat a person." Hissed, his eyes go to the whaler he knew was messing with Corvo under his nose in his very own bed.

Geoff, which tilted his head to the side and said no word. Another red-coated assassin glanced at him momentarily, before turning their gaze to Daud.

It was hypocritical, really. How he scolded his man in front of the rest to see over a reckless mistake when he was the one to provoke Corvo to begin with with his teasing and degradation. How hypocritical it was, to lash at another who eased the man's mind with consensual actions when he himself never asked - just paid for his own pleasure that he was yet to regret.

"Scatter.  _ All  _ of you." He ordered, watching as within seconds he was alone with the man who was slowly regaining his bearings.

A little  _ too  _ slow, for Daud.

He turned to face him and pressed a knee by Corvo who was again to flinch in response, clinging to the round bump beneath the vest and sending a wild glare towards him, eyes filled with tears threatening to fall and stain his bruised cheeks.

Daud, albeit in a position that was - in his mind - supposed to be non-threatening, was apparently not enough for Corvo to cooperate with him. Conflicting thoughts raced through his head, the pounding rage giving him a creeping migraine even though Daud was evidently much calmer when he knelt down by the Royal Protector. To him, he was being protective. But to Corvo, it was probably something entirely different.

How many men did exactly that before violating his body? How many men shouted and flailed every which way to get Corvo to submit, to cower in fear of what's to come? There was nothing Royal about the Protector right now. He was a disheveled mess, tears mixed with makeup only adding more blue to contrast the red. Daud didn't exactly know what to think, or say, or do. He recognized the behavior as that of many of his Whalers when he first took them in. It stung, knowing he was responsible for some of it.

All of it. Considering the Empress' death was what led to everything else that followed.

"Corvo -" Daud begun, but his breath hitched and he remained there with his mouth open for a moment. He closed it, wracking his mind for the right words. For  _ any  _ words that didn't sound like complete bullshit.

After a small intake of air, Daud spoke again. "As much as I'm to blame for all of this, I don't want my own men to add more on top of it." His tone was calm, yet stern, despite the obvious worry softening Daud's features just a little bit. "The one who struck you will be dealt with. But for now I'll need you to cooperate."

It was hard to believe anything that came out this man’s mouth anymore.

He was mocking him mere moments ago, scowling at him. And now he was holding gently at his shoulder, promising him he doesn’t want him to be harmed. His blues eyes staring deeply into his own, in a way he hasn’t looked at him before.

  
Why was this happening?  
  
What was going on?

 

-

 

Waiting at Geoff’s isolated corner in the Flooded District gave Corvo a long time to reflect on things.

There was no reason for him to snap in the Knife's face. He was putting himself at great risk, raising his hands and swearing like a sailor at this man, especially in front of his men. Yet, he couldn't seem to control it.

One moment he was brushing the insults off, and the next he was barking and snarling like an animal, ready to sink his teeth into his nose. He didn't like thinking about how violent and animalistic he's become, but red is all he could see, all he  _ wanted  _ to see.

He wanted to paint Dunwall crimson with the blood of those who wronged him, to have  _ his  _ way this time around -

_ There's no getting rest like this... _ He sighed to himself. Just as he wondered where his own “guard” was, a whaler transversed in front of him, staring down. Perhaps he was surprised that the Lord Protector appeared this peaceful now.

Though it wasn’t peace.

It was fatigue. Exhaustion.

Defeat.

He gestured at him to get up, and then offered his hand, making Corvo's brows knit together to a frown. He was wary of the whaler's intentions and if he should even be there - for some reason turning paranoid for a possible attempt at an assault, but he forced himself to shake those thoughts away and stood up, ignoring his hand in the process.

The whaler simply lowered his hand and turned his shoulder away, waiting for Corvo to follow him. When he saw cooperation, he began on leading him down the stairs and out of the crumbling apartment. The two went down the ruined district and away from the base, towards a door.

Corvo looked behind him at Jessamine's statue, one last time, before he left, the whaler closing the door behind him.

The Royal Protector was compliant this time around, as if the few hours away reset his emotions and his ability to talk. Neither Corvo or the whaler looked at each other during their long walk, with the masked individual keeping his eyes straight on their path and the other keeping his eyes darting left and right - remembering the place and trying his best to look around for paths and shortcuts. He was going to come back here once he would ensure Emily's safety, he promised himself. But she was of highest priority to him.

No matter where he looked, he saw one of Daud's assassins, be it walking around, or sitting on the edge of a roof, watching them both as they crossed the area. Not for a moment did Corvo think it would be easy, but he wouldn't and couldn't rest until he saw things to their end.

His breath started heaving as his thoughts started to become violent again, his expression stuck on a frown.

They came to a stop once they reached Daud which stood by a boat. So it's time to leave already. He blinked slowly, stepping into the boat without a word, watching as the older man stepped in after him. They were both quiet, as if nothing happened prior to this.

Both refusing to look at the other, to have their gazes meet.

It was a long ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again I am going to disappear for a while. Money is super tight and we don't have much for food so I'm mostly busy making art. You can find me on Tumblr @Dual-Ink for art and @ask-corvo for Dishonored things.
> 
> At least it was a long chapter!
> 
> MxnicStxr was writing Daud in this chapter.


End file.
